"Right. I hope we may. But things look ugly. That pleasant gentleman who has just done talking to me is good enough to tell me that we shall soon be hanged. If it comes to that, Hal, why, we must face it out, and die as those at the hacienda would have us do."
He looked into his companion's face and smiled bravely, for Gerald was determined to show his friend that he, too, possessed a fund of pluck which would carry him through an unpleasant difficulty.
"We will, old boy," Hal answered cheerily; "but let us hope that it will not come to that. Hallo! Who's this?"
At this moment an officer, who was dressed in the usual Spanish uniform, emerged from the inner room, and was walking hurriedly across to the door, being bent evidently upon the performance of some special duty, when his eye fell upon Hal and Gerald. Almost instantly a startled cry escaped him, and he sprang backwards in astonishment.
"What! You!" he exclaimed, in tones of surprise, surveying them with an air of delight. "You two from the hacienda! Idiots! You have played into my hands. Men, close round your prisoners, and take the best care of them, for I can vouch for it that they are Americans. They are spies, and have come here to find out our secrets."
He strode towards them, and grasping Hal's hat, tore it from his head. Then he laughed sardonically in his face, and, with a triumphant glance at the two prisoners, turned upon his heel, and re-entered the room from which he had emerged a minute before.
"What bad luck! What hard lines!" exclaimed Hal, with something approaching a groan. "That fellow José d'Arousta again!"
It was, indeed, an unfortunate meeting, and one fraught with the greatest peril for Hal and his friend. They were prisoners, and practically under a charge of spying upon the enemy; but for all that, a minute or more before, the aspect of affairs had not been altogether hopeless. How changed it was now! The very man of all others in Santiago whom it was most desirable that they should not meet had run up against them, had recognized them, and now, burning to avenge a private grievance, had promptly denounced them as spies. No wonder that Hal shuddered. Across his mind flitted the recollection of Mr. Brindle's tale of the Virginius, and of the fate meted out to her hapless crew—captured at night, condemned, and promptly shot at dawn. That was the sequence of events; and what was to prevent a similar fate from befalling them?
"The letter! Of course, the letter which Mr. Brindle gave me," exclaimed Hal, aloud, as if Gerald had been following the train of thoughts which had been running through his mind.
"Why that letter?" asked the latter, looking at him in astonishment. "What are you talking about, old fellow?"